Today is the hope of the world. Here and now we are welding that great chain of tomorrows which extends from the instant to infinity. We live not for ourselves alone but for all futurity. Our accomplishments survive us, for long after we have descended into the earth the orders which we have established shall dominate the activities of men. The world is an ancestral shrine filled with the mortuary tablets of the honored dead. We bow before our illustrious progenitors. We are the substance of their aspirations, the consummation of their dreams, for today is the focal point of time. We are all that has been about to be projected into all that shall be. Each human soul holds eternity in suspension. Recognizing this truth, several modern scientists have formulated the theory that immortality is achieved through a succession of lives—that the father achieves immortality in his son, the son in his progeny, and so on to the end of generation. The torch of life which each expiring personality hands on to another does not go out; it is immortal, but he who bears it must perish by the way. Men are but incidents in the flow of life, yet they have a strange power, for while they cannot cause the vital flame to blaze up from nothingness, they are empowered to snuff it out, and when generations cease the countless ages die together. To be is to be immortal, for that which has been can never utterly cease. The past hovers in the air like a mirage. Men feel its presence; they breath it in, and enveloped by it live their little now. Upon the surface of their polished mirrors the ancient Magi caught faint visions of forgotten times. Within the next century we shall discover that history is written in the air; that so-called space itself is photographic, preserving as on a sensitized plate the varied activities of created things. Egypt as a physical empire has long since crumbled into dust, but upon each minute particle of the atmosphere the glory of ancient Egypt is preserve...